The Beast
by NoragamiYatoGD
Summary: Curosity killed the cat. But in Jaune's case, it marked the beginning of a new chapter in his life. With no training, he was bound to never fulfill his dream. But now, armed with a weapon far stronger than any conventional one, he just might make his dream a reality. He just have to control it, lest he becomes. . .
1. - Prologue

**I had an idea of two stories with the same plot – wolf-Jaune. One was to be crack-ish with really disturbing themes, the other serious with an actual plot not just ramblings. The crack-ish fic is _'Jaune's Furry Problem'._ Check it out at your own discretion.**

**This is for my own enjoyment. And the whole plot was inspired from the song, ****_'Monster' by Imagine Dragons._**

**_._**

**Summary: Curosity killed the cat. But in Jaune's case, it marked the beginning of a new chapter in his life. With no training, he was bound to never fulfill his dream. But now, armed with a weapon far stronger than any conventional one, he just might make his dream a reality. He just have to control it, lest he becomes... **

**The ****Beast**

**Prologue** **\- The Monster**

The memory still played in his mind. The memory that of an event, an important one, that opened a new chapter in his life. He could remember it so vividly it may as well have occurred yesterday…

_Jaune staggered through a torrential storm as hailstones the size of grapes plummeted from the night sky and pounded into the mud around him. They splattered in the deep puddles and rattled on roofs, beating the barks of trees that moved fiercely in the blowing wind._

_He held up his hands as he ran to protect his face. A sharp jag of purplish-white lightning flashed from sky to earth, striking into the quickly deserting street. A roar of that thunder rattled the windows of houses and knocked the breath from his body._

_Wet, bedraggled and intensely irate, Jaune climbed the steep marble staircase that took him from the dirt of the street to the polished refinement of the Arc mansion. An ancient home, built long before his grandfather's time._

_He smashed the tapping-handle three times against the brass plate. A short, bespectacled, blonde haired girl opened the door with a frown. A frown that melted upon seeing him._

_"Welcome home, brother. Mother was worried. Who knew the rain would have increased in such intensity in a span of few minutes."_

_Jaune gave a small smile as he ruffled her hair, too tired to even comment. He warily trudged his wet shoes down the hallway towards the kitchen, studiously ignoring the shouted commands to remove his 'germ-infested galoshes' on the doorstep._

_His mother stepped abruptly through the door of the dining into the hallway. "Jaune!" she said, wiping at her sleeves. She pulled his soggy body in for an embrace. "I was worried the storm had carried my baby away."_

_He fussed a bit in her arms until he was released from her smothering bosoms._

_"I'm okay. See, no injuries. Not even a scratch…" he showed off his body, emphasizing his point. "Just wet and in need of a hot shower."_

_"Then let me not keep you long. Hand me the things you bought."_

_He dutifully gave her the bag he held before turning from her and making his way to his room._

_In a family dominated by the female species, a man got to have his own cave to escape the oestrogen sometimes. At least that's what his dad says._

_His room was a bit of a mess, and that's putting it lightly. The bed was bare of its usual items; the quilt laid in a heap besides it while the pillow was strewn across his study table. His clothes were scattered around, unmentionables, dirty and clean, intermixed on just about everywhere._

_Jaune sighed, warily rubbing the bridge of his nose. The reason for his room being in such a state were rolling around on the floor, pulling and scratching at each other._

_Usually he would have separated them then proceed to berate them before sending them out, but now he would rather shower. Preferably before he contacts pneumonia._

_So while avoiding the still wrestling duo, Jaune gathered the necessary supplies and entered the adjoined bathroom. After he was done, he made his bed and laid on it thankful that the twins had taken their squabble elsewhere._

_But as he slept, he couldn't shake off the feeling that something, something out there was watching him. The feeling more pronounced as a howl reached his ears._

_His cerulean blue eyes shone in annoyance._

_He couldn't sleep. Those howls grated on his nerves. He wanted it to stop. Pillows did nothing to muffle the sounds, the way it found itself in his ears was still a mystery to him._

_He got out of his bed throwing aside the blanket. With a frown on his face for having his sleep disturbed, he moved towards the only window, opening it quite forcefully. He peered outside, the wide expanse of the forest unnaturally still and devoid of sound._

_Except from the howling it seemed._

_He went back to his bed but stopped a few feet away. What was it that kept drawing him to that sound? Was it his curiosity? The feeling nagging at him to uncover the source of the noise. It was probably just a lone Beowolf? But something in him didn't quite agree with that assessment. It sounded humane. Different. He couldn't place it but there was something off about those sounds the animal made that distinguished it from the Beowolf or even a normal wolf. It was too primal._

_Making up his mind, he decided to venture into the forest. He didn't go without a weapon, a shotgun taken from his father's repertoire. Even just one Grimm was usually enough to kill an untrained and aura-less civilian. And with his lack of fighting skill and aura he was just that. A civilian. So proper precautions was to be taken._

_Prevention was better than cure. Wouldn't it be for his own good he waited till morning? He didn't know why but he had to do it. He had to confront the source of the howls._ _Tonight._

_The forest was still and dark, the air cool and he was fortunate enough to have carried with him a dry jacket. Even with his lamp it was still hard to see. The darkness was suffocating and for a moment he had the thought of turning back. Heroes never gave up, they trudged on so he did just that. The feeling of apprehension and foreboding growing with each step he took._

_The moon's light shone through the broad leaves of the forest tree and he realized as he peered up that it was a full moon tonight. Despite the state of the moon, all fragments of it were easily seen, the heavenly body bathed in a pulsating glow._

_Weird._

_Tired of walking he turned on his heels to go back home. He had satisfied his curiosity. There was nothing here. Maybe it was a flux or some ploy to promote a new brand of commodity. People do the strangest things if its guaranteed to make them rich or richer depending on the case._

_A long spine tingling howl stretched through the forest and he froze in place. That sounded disturbingly close by. Jaune whipped around in search of the source, in doing so left his back open._

_Something heavy slammed into him from behind, felling both to the ground. Jaune didn't fault himself for almost fainting upon seeing just what landed on him._

_Barring the bone plating one would have mistaken it to be a Beowolf. Large and dark furred, its blood red eyes peered at him. Feeling the stare of those ancient eyes he couldn't help the shiver that passed through him. It wasn't one of pleasure. It was fear._

_He was about to die._

_That realization sent a shock through his system and he began thrashing in place._ _One growl from the beast quieted his motions immediately._

_Yup, he was gonna die._

_The snort of the creature – its identity was not his concern at the moment, surviving was – blew hot air onto his face, its nose crinkling as it slid its lips over gleaming canines. Its head dipped and his body jerked in pain, a hand managing to clip the beast in its eyes, enough to dislodge it from his body._

_Mind hazy from pain, he stood, only to trip on something decidedly wooden._

_The shotgun!_

_The beast growled loudly in anger and rushed him. But Jaune was ready. So with a pained filled smirk, one that showed too many teeth, he pulled the trigger._

_While he had no formal training in handling a firearm, he had seen his mum and sisters on various occasions use one. Plus, it wasn't exactly hard to shoot a target in front of you, experienced or not. That said, he did lack those necessary experience and so managed to miss its head, the bullet digging through both side limbs in one brutal spray of blood._

_Jaune, having been fell from the recoil of the weapon, stood and made his way to the downed creature. This close, it resembled more of a wolf, just more feral and old. How long was the life span of an average wolf?_

_Looking down on it, he placed the gun on the head of the beast. With the target so close, missing it must warrant a jail sentence. The gun went off with a bang and blood splattered around. It was a messy sight and was probably a painful way to go, yet the expression on the wolf was, dare him say it. . . contented._

_Putting that finding out of mind, Jaune began the arduous task of going back home, his wound making itself evident and throbbing with so much vengeance, he felt nauseous._

_The beast laid dead, its body not warranting even a parting glance from its murderer. If he had looked back, he would have seen its features dissolving like Grimms are known to do yet fundamentally different, revealing a nude man in its place. A man that bore a scar approximately at the same sight that Jaune was bitten._

It was the beginning of his problem, he won't lie. But to be honest, he was thankful for the bite. Without it, he wouldn't be on his way to fulfilling his dream. Becoming a hero. Though if he had known of the disadvantages that comes with being the monster, he would have asked for a refund, as non-existent as that may be.


	2. - Flaws and Sins

**I will type this for the first and last time. If you came here looking for a canonical Jaune, get out. This Jaune will be a whole lot different. He has a beast he can't control in him with all the perks being teen wolf brings. He will be a teenage Remus Lupin (Harry Potter) in a way. Just a bit more angst-sy. Be warned.**

**And, I do this for my own enjoyment.**

**Chapter One – Flaws and Sins**

Jaune remembered the fragmented moonlight. The fractionated silver disc of the full moon bearing down into his upraised eyes, its intoxicating light seeping into his pores and coursing through his veins, stirring something deep, deep within him.

And then the pain. Terrible convulsions had racked his body, his skin seemed to be on fire and, as he looked down in horror, Jaune had seen his fingers and toes contract into hard, claw-tipped paws. His neck had strained, belly cramped, while the muscles in his chest and shoulders rippled and rolled as though a colony of trapped rats was writhing beneath his skin.

At the back of his throat he had felt a burning sensation as the root of his tongue swelled and squirmed, leaving him choked for breath. He remembered coughing, and his tongue leaping out between his parted lips, lolling from the corner of his mouth, down past his chin. Strands of drool had splattered onto the floor and glinted in the moonlight.

Such pain Jaune had endured. Such terrible pain. It felt as though his very skull had been placed in a carpenter's vice, which was being screwed tighter and tighter.

And then the noises began…

There was a creaking, cracking sound inside his ears, and he knew that his jaw was thrusting forward even as his nose did the same. The next moment he realized he could see them both at the same time through his narrowed eyes. He shook his head violently and tried to scream, but all that emerged were growls and yelps that turned into a terrible howl as his terror grew.

Jaune had tried to get away, tried to reach for any of his family, but was overwhelmed with an impossible heaviness originating from his very mind that pinned him to the spot. He was trapped, scarcely able to move so much as a muscle – yet his senses were alit.

His hearing becam more acute than ever before. His eyesight had sharpened, so that everything looked bright and clear – though curiously elongated, as if he was looking through a slightly warped lens. His nose quivered with excitement as a thousand different scents and odors assailed it.

There was the pungent smell of linseed oil in the varnished woodwork. There was the fragrant perfume of a recent visitor – as well as the sour underlying sweat she had been attempting to conceal. There was tile polish. Spilled milk. Crushed grass. Bird feathers. Sweat. Dust. Gravel. A trace of vomit. A hint of dog…

And then the itching began. All over his body. Scabrous, overwhelming and impossible to ignore, it had him scraping and scratching at every inch of his skin with his claws, using all the energy he could muster. And as he did so, his jaw dropped with a mixture of horror and shock as he witnessed his smooth, hairless skin begin to sprout thick, dark fur.

Horrified, he had stared up and howled once more, his clothes laying in tatters about him. And as if prompted by that howl, a presence emerged from the back of his mind, powerful and ancient, and overtook his senses. Jaune, frightened and weak, could only scream and fight as his vision grew hazy with a bloody tinge.

Nobody had heard him, for the battle he fought was not of the flesh but of his mind. And he lost against the ancient beast.

The next time he awoke, it was to a new dawn. No buildings, no clothes. Just him, sprawled flat against luscious grasses, surrounded on all sides by tall, sprawling trees.

It didn't take long for him to realize what he was and for precautions to be taken by his family who more or less accepted his condition.

For what little relief it brought, he never remembered anything past his transformation.

A small mercy, at least.

-O-

The moment Jaune opened the front door and stepped onto the doorstep he knew this would be the last time he would see his family for a while. He stood in the silence, his duffel bag hanging from his hand, doing his utmost best to ignore his reflection in the beveled mirror glass on the hallstand. The passage smelled of chicken from his mother's cooking.

It was raining again and the tires of the cars going past in the road outside were making a swishing sound. A week earlier they had celebrated his recent admission into Beacon together at an exclusive restaurant in Ansel, his hometown. That evening, with their meal, they had shared their last moment as a full family. The next day most of his sisters had gone back to their respective apartments. And the coming week was spent getting his necessities in order.

Now, he was off to Vale.

Boarding the Bullhead was an odious affair, the wary glances sent his way by the many passengers aboard made him hate his situation more and more. He was more than happy to alight once the aircraft landed.

Vale.

The many complimentary brochures and pictures didn't do the city justice.

The city was a huge sprawling complex of buildings and paved streets. Lights blazed from the interior of the massive structures and from street lamps overhead.

A pity he had no interest in sightseeing.

He drew the long cloak he wore closer, hiding his haggard body within its folds. Stumbling around, Jaune tried to steer clear from the people crowding the streets. They were everywhere and avoided touching him. He wouldn't be surprised they thought him a homeless man or drunk. He certainly looked and smelled like one. The wet dog smell seemed to cling to his skin, the smell more intense with every shift.

Hunger assailed his senses, mixed with the different scents that littered around. His fangs exploded out of his mouth as emotions, not of his, reared its head. With the full moon soon, the **Beast**, a name he had come to refer as his other half, began making its presence known. He wasn't surprised. It was usually in the most inopportune of time. Stumbling, almost blind, he continued along the street.

He clamped down on the sudden urge to rend and tear, red growing along his vision. He must not allow the **Beast** out. Especially now in broad day light. The repercussions would be unbearable. The odds of escaping captivity not in his favor.

He chuckled lowly and darkly. He couldn't do anything to stop **it** if **it** really wanted an out. But **It** was contented to wait. At least until the next full moon.

A sobering thought. But it would be unwise to get his hopes up, the **Beast** loved to play with him and unpredictable was something he had come to associated with it.

Jaune entered a motel, the least expensive place he could find that would turn a blind eye if growls and howls were heard indoors. Spending more of his allotted Lien on a better apartment would be a waste. It would be of more use in buying clothes, as the ones he had seemed to have a habit of tearing whilst under pressure.

What he assumed was the clerk raised an eyebrow at him, roved her eyes on his tattered appearance and sighed.

"Another bum." She muttered derisively, either not noticing his close proximity to her or not caring. Jaune wagered internally on the later.

Guess even run-downed motels had levels. As low as it appeared to be.

"You're probably here thinking we would let you stay for free because you're—"

He shoved some Lien in front of her face, the action having the intended effect of shutting her up.

Her expression changed; the contempt on her lips making way for a smile as she realized he was in fact a paying customer, and not a freeloader like she had earlier presumed.

"Your room's right this way, sir. Just follow me."

With that, she led the way through a dimly lit passageway.

Sir? No longer bum? It was a struggle to not allow the incessant anger loose. Anger not at the rude clerk, but at himself. At his situation. At **it**.

.

. .

. . .

The bath was everything a worn and haggard person wouldn't wish for; too small to fit him, and filled to the brim with cold water. He splashed mandatory, rinsing the sweat from his skin. It wouldn't be for him to not be presentable in front of the Headmaster.

Suddenly remembering an info he had forgotten, Jaune moved from the bathroom, making sure to wrap a towel round his midriff.

The time for the meeting had been scheduled for 3:30 PM. Having less than 30 minutes to the designated time, Jaune dressed quickly and fled for the common room. But first, he had to grab a bite.

It wouldn't do for him to grab a bite out of the Headmaster or someone else at Beacon.

As he left, he made a quick stop at the reception, informing the clerk that he would be back some time later in the evening. With eyes wide with surprise, she nodded.

Yeah, he had been told, by his family no less, that if it wasn't that they knew him already, it would have been hard to recognize him.

His appearance. Yet another thing the **Beast** had taken from him.

Stepping out from the motel, he flagged a taxi down. Giving the directions to Beacon's Station – a place where all Bullheads heading to the academy are kept, sort of like their own off-land hangar – he got himself comfortable in the car's soft cushion.

Coming to a stop in front of the Station, Jaune alighted and made his way into the shelter after paying the driver.

The ride to Beacon was mercifully silent, though the time it took to reach the school was long. Making his way down the ramp, he couldn't help but feel trepidation worm its way into his mind. He had little doubts to how the meeting will end.

Spotting a statuesque figure tapping rapidly at a scroll in her arms standing at the edge of the large entrance door, he made his way towards her. That must be the Deputy Headmistress then, Miss Glynda Goodwitch. The same woman who had informed him of his meeting with Ozpin, the Headmaster of Beacon Academy.

Nearing her, Jaune saw the way her impatient frown turned into an indifferent glare as she took notice of him. Though the glare lessened in intensity as her eyes took in his appearance and the way his body slouched.

"You are late, Mr. Arc. Fortunately for you, the Headmaster didn't deem it fit to cancel the meeting."

He flinched as those measured eyes bored down on him.

"The meeting will occur in his office promptly. Follow me."

Even though she couldn't possibly see him with her back turned towards him, he nodded nervously and did as she instructed. Less than a minute with her and he was already scared of her. That should be a record or something.

The elevator ride was filled with silence, punctuated only by the sounds of breathings. One noticeably harsher than the other.

"Mr. Arc, are you okay."

The question seemed to break through the haze that was his mind, and brought him back to reality.

"Yea-Yeah, I am. Just not a fan of closed spaces." He answered whilst digging the claws that erupted from his hands into his palm. The pain helped to stabilize him. Helped to ignore the closing walls, encroaching darkness and—

Miss Goodwitch hmmed, accepting his answer. With nothing else said, the ride descended into silence once more and his claws dug deeper as a result.

The bite seemed to have replaced his motion sickness with a crushing claustrophobia. As a matter of fact, he didn't know which one was worse. Each one both had overwhelming disadvantages.

The elevator stopped and before Miss Goodwitch could realize what happened, Jaune was out of the machine with a groan of steel as the doors were forcefully opened.

That was one of the few things the **Beast** and him agreed on. Elevators were the work of evil people.

Hearing a chuckle from in front of him, Jaune raised his head and was met with the amused visage of one of the most powerful men of Remnant. His breath shook as the **Beast** bared his fangs within him, the struggle to retain his senses and stop a bloodbath from occurring taking an awful amount of time. Enough time for the two people with him to notice. He shook his head to clear the remnants of the foreign emotions and sat himself down on the plush black office chair. The scene he had made apparently went ignored as Miss Goodwitch moved to stand beside and slightly behind Headmaster Ozpin, the man's head dipping to scan a set of documents on a scroll placed in front of him.

"Ah, Mr. Arc, thank you for coming to this meeting, though, I would have preferred if you did within the time frame given."

Stifling down the urge to flinch, he nodded. The man hadn't meant anything wrong - he was simply teasing him. Yet, he couldn't help the reaction. If the Headmaster wasn't as merciful as he is, he wouldn't be right here.

"I received your application for entrance as a student into Beacon academy, and have had some time to pour over it." He paused, shifting the scroll towards Jaune. "And there was something that required some looking into. Which was why I was happy with you requesting a meeting. It would hopefully shed light on my confusion."

Jaune stared at the scroll, his application photo staring right back at him. And he felt the urge to hurl. Ever since his shifts started having its effects on him, he hated seeing his pictures, reflections… point is, he hated seeing a remainder of his situation. It made him sicker than any motion sickness could.

The reason for the meeting, as Ozpin implied, was to find out the reason he wrote 'complicated' as his semblance instead of an actual semblance like any normal person would.

A pity he didn't feel normal anymore. Turning into a thing of legend can do that to you.

"To understand what I meant, I need to show you something." Jaune said, reaching for his scroll within his hoodie's pocket.

He had ditched the cloak in favor of something slightly more presentable. It was the reason for the clerk's surprised expression. That and his general appearance.

He scrolled – mind the pun – through the pictures on his device, until he reached one suitable enough for what he was about to do.

"This was what I looked like before." Jaune said, referring to the picture. "This is what I look like now." He added, pointing a hand to his face.

He gave the scroll to the Headmaster, who took it with an inscrutable expression on his face. As he peered at it, and so many other pictures of him all looking vastly different from the present him, Jaune continued talking.

"It started after I was bitten by a werewolf." He began, not noticing the way Ozpin tensed. "I know. It sounds so unbelievable. Werewolves are stuff of legends . . . but they are so real. And I am an unwilling living proof."

And with that, years of repressed emotions came gushing out.

"Every full moon, I transform – or shift as I call it – into a werewolf. And the worse part is I can't control it. It's like something, another presence, overtakes my mind and… the next thing, I find myself naked and alone. Usually in the outskirts of a forest. The worse thing is I can't remember what happened, the most I am able to are flashes of emotions and screams. I don't know what I have done . . . who I have killed. I don't know."

He continued, explaining in detail most of the situations he had found himself, how it all began while the Headmaster and Headmistress sat – or stood in Miss Goodwitch's case – and listened with rapt attention. It was almost comical they were they leaned in order to better hear what he said. Almost.

There was nothing comical about his situation.

After he was done talking, Jaune took in a deep shuddering breath and awaited his verdict. To his eyes, the older man seemed to age almost a decade in the span it took him to finish what basically amounted to his life story.

"If I may be frank Mr. Arc." A saddened expression growing on his face, one mirrored by said boy as he took in the expression. "You will only be a liability."

If he was holding a mug, it would have crashed with that statement. Having none, he made do with the lone tear that leaked down his face.

"But, in the end, your situation demands immediate response. Without careful monitoring, which is only possible within the walls of Beacon, it would be hard to get to you if or rather when you transform. What do you think Glynda?" The Headmaster asked as he leaned back in his seat with a thoughtful frown. Jaune turned to look at the woman who had escorted him, and even through the blur caused by his tears, he noticed the sad look she quickly hid.

"I agree with your decision Headmaster. Not only would he be a fine addition to our school, we are well equipped to handle his other side."

The relief was palpable. Words couldn't express how much he owed this two people. Despite him being what he was and with all the disadvantages it brings to the table, he still had a chance of being a hero.

"Now, onto some necessary arrangements…" The Headmaster began.

.

. .

. . .

Feeling so happy and relieved, Jaune made his way towards the motel with a slight skip in his movements. He chose to walk back instead of catching a lift, needing ti stretch his legs after hours of siting. Once he reached his room he would phone his parents and relay the good news to them. They probably wouldn't believe him. He didn't still believe what had happened. They had accepted him, including his flaws and sins.

He felt on top of the world.

That feeling promptly died a horrific death as a figure crashed through a window along with a smaller, more lithe figure. Who suddenly unfurled a large, honest-to-god scythe and stared down many uniformed men. Hefty and armed with weapons.

His legs did a 180 as he used a different route back to the motel. No matter how much his heroic instincts screamed for him to rush into that and start fighting the bad guy or guys, he had no need to do so. No matter how much he wanted to do otherwise, he would have to contend and leave the heroics to professionals.

Jumping into the fray would do nothing but excite the **Beast**. And exciting the **Beast** is the least of what anyone needed this night. Lest of all him.

The remaining distance closed in an awfully long time as Jaune, with his head hung low, dragged his feet the whole time.

He never hated his situation as much as he did at that moment.


	3. - Somewhere I belong

**Again, and I stress, this Jaune is vastly different from canon Jaune. If you want canon Jaune, get out. I may change some minor stuff later on to the chspter, I am still working on it because it feels quite monotonic and bland. I won't update this story in a long while, as I will be very busy. Thoughts and criticisms are welcomed.**

**And, I write for my own enjoyment.**

**Chapter Two – Somewhere I belong**

He returned to the motel that he booked earlier. Keeping his head lowered and hidden inside his hoodie, he limped across the lobby, nodding weakly towards the front dear clerk, and climbing the stairs. Entering his room at the fifth floor, he fell on his bed, uncaring of the door that was left ajar. Staring at his hands, he couldn't help the mocking laughter that sprang out from his lips.

Hero, my ass.

The rustic foam met his head, and with heart-wrenching sobs as his lullaby, he fell asleep.

. . .

Jaune's sleep was so restless that he unknowingly came into a place that took on a sense of reality, overstepping the ethereal realm of subconscious outlets and fantasies, becoming real.

He had appeared in a meadow: so familiar and never forgotten despite wishes for the opposite; the scents; the tree trunks dappled in the moonlight; the shadow of the leaves stretching across the field. Despite the happenings of the outside world, the place had remained more or less the same. The air was still mild, smelling of over-ripe berries, fading blossoms, a thousand or more flowers dazing his senses. He never could figure out why it felt so real here. Why he never felt like a figment.

Oaks, planes, tulip trees towered to the sky around him, broad and tall, with leafy canopies that spread wide. The forest, in all its ancient appearance, made him feel just like a child. The effect never diminishing despite the multitudes of time he had appeared here.

And he knew where he was. Though he had no idea for the location of the **Beast**. This was **its** abode and Jaune, the moment he arrives in this place, was usually greeted by **its** snarling and snapping visage. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes for the **Beast** to appear, yet **it** hadn't. What was going on?

Jaune looked around, searching for **it**, though not daring to call **it **out. He never knew how the **Beast** would react. A large part of him never want to find out.

He noticed the pool, one of the few constants in this place, shimmering among bone-white stones, surrounded by flowers. Jaune looked around, once again breathing the air that had haunted him, the scents that had eluded him, mingled with the soft stench of blood. Branches of trees, eucalyptus and alder, reached out over the water as if to cool their leaves. He began to move though he tried to stop himself. There was nothing to see in the shallow depths save from his reflection. Yet, he found himself continuing through the trees until he reached the bank.

Jaune knelt down on one of the damp stones. It was still a mystery how everything felt real yet had the underlining illusion of a dream. Something rustled behind him, and for a moment he caught himself looking for the **Beast's** black fur coat and snout, but it was nothing. No animal or anything to signify a presence in those hedges. This place was a paradox in it itself; plant life grew in abundance despite the lack of sunlight, yet he had seen no animal in all his time spent here.

The water was still, as it had been since his first arrival in the spatial embodiment of his psyche. His reflection trembled on the dark water. His face was the same as ever.

With a snarl he looked away from his image, digging nails deep into the field. Tears of anger burned at his eyes, dripping down onto the grass below.

A figure appeared behind him, the soft sounds of movements loud in the otherwise silent environment. And Jaune stopped for he knew the source.

He craned his neck around to stare at the physical representation of an abstract entity. The **Beast** had appeared between two trees in the distance and to his greatest befuddlement, stayed there motionless, waiting. This had never happened, **it** had always attacked him whenever he came here. It was the norm, the expected occurrence. Why was the **Beast** still. The full moon was near, **it **should be in a frenzy. **it** had no qualms in howing anger at the Headmaster, nor **its** displeasure at being in the elevator, so why?! Why did **it **just stay there? For what reason?

With a jolt, a realization came upon him. The **Beast** looked at him, a crooked grin forming on **its **muzzle. **It** was contented in waiting for the first rays of the full moon. That didn't bode well for him. And with that, the Beast **faded**, leaving the boy with questions that he knew would only be answered late.

. . .

Jaune woke from his slumber, feeling better than he had felt in a long while. The aches were gone, the metaphoric leash he had on his emotions lessened, as if there wasn't any need. As if the emotions he had kept a tight reign on had faded like the **Beast** in his mind. And he knew, without a doubt, that the coming full moon might spell his end. Provided proper countermeasures weren't put in place.

He would need to speak with the Headmaster, or if he wasn't around, the Deputy. The signs were troubling. But even that could wait until he was at Beacon. Despite the urgency he felt at the situation, it might be a hoax. He might be wrong at his assessment, and so telling the Headmaster might be a waste of both parties time. Until further evidence is brought to light pertaining his theories, it would remain with him.

With that done, Jaune rose from his bed. Rush hour traffic below his chamber window breathed a deep note behind the rise and fall of Autumn's wind. Rain tapped like pinpricks against the glass. He entered the adjoined bathroom, going straight for the sink, thankfully without a mirror. Twisting the faucet open, he let the cold water pour into the bathroom sink, the only sound except from his rapid breathing. It seemed he was somehow affected by his theory.

Jaune shook his head to get rid of the thought. He twisted the faucet close then dipped his hand into the water. He scrubbed his forehead with cold, wet fingers, trying to stop the unease he felt at a perceived impending doom. He washed his face with the soap on the sink, then he lathered his face and shaved the ragged hairs that grew on his chin. The action so familiar he had no use for a mirror. After which, he brushed his teeth. He dried his hands on his jeans then strode out of the bathroom.

He moved down the stairs, into the large dining room. Inside, the smell of roast lamb filled the air. From the kitchen the sounds of chopping and sizzling entered into the hall. There was a cold chill in the room; a young fire struggled against the chill of the morning drizzle.

A long table stretched the length of the room with wooden chair clustered around it. Light flittered in from the hanging dust-lamp. A tide of people pushed into the room. The gathering of people so poor they couldn't afford a better motel but nevertheless had enough for this place.

Breakfast was hurried. Slabs of hot meat in warm stew, round bread loaves and clay ale pots were carried from the kitchen. Eager hands snatched hungrily at the food, though they made sure not to take more than his/her share. Jaune helped himself to his own share and ate his fill.

His hunger now satiated, he clambered back up to his room, making straight for the bathroom, a towel in his grasp.

He ducked under the warm stream of the shower, the cascading liquid helping relieve the unease that the hot breakfast hadn't been able to. He rubbed soap over the marks that littered his skin, taking care to wash away the dirt that clung to it. He rinsed and got out of the shower, tucking the corner of his towel tight around him. He crossed the room to his duffel bag bare-footed. A short while later he was dressed in his usual jeans and hoodie and out of the room. He would have preferred to wear his cloak but he had foregone it in favor of the Pumpkin Pete™ hoodie, the material strong enough to protect him from the rain and the chill that accompanied it.

With his hands in his pocket and face hidden in the hood, Jaune walked down the street, keeping to the sidewalk. Traffic hushed and growled through the fog, an ocean of metal powered by dust. He took some time to breathe in the cold air, pulling the scents lingering in the atmosphere to him. In the midst of it, an intimate scent stood out.

Blood.

An odd sucking sound reached his ears, and he closed his eyes to better concentrate on it. However, it was all for naught, as someone bumped into him, breaking his concentration.

Air escaped his lips as a lithe figure continued on her – and he knew she was a she for no male could be that soft – way, ignoring his downed form. Damn, she was studier than she looked. Maybe a huntress or one in training. He looked away from her pale and snow-like appearance and stood, moving towards an alley, the scents having originated from there.

The odd sound had stopped, though whimpering had taken its place. He didn't normally go poking his face into potential trouble, but the whimpers and stinks of pain drew him forward. It didn't hurt that the **Beast** wasn't spurred by the scent of blood either, being unusually quite despite the closeness of the full moon.

Luckily the streets weren't crowded, so he didn't bother checking to see if anyone noticed what he had. Besides, he had learnt the hard way that normal civilians don't actively look for troubles and tend to ignore a problem until it affected them or those close to them.

The fog in the alley did not stir. There were no lights down the narrow passage, just two buildings standing close but not so close as to pose a problem to him. Though from the looks of it, the attacker had been thin or at least able to squeeze through with minimal effort. The brick foundation of the apartment had bulged outward at the bottom, sagging under the weight of years and making the alley even narrower.

Even though the area was concealed by the fog and darkness, Jaune was able to see clearly. There was some perks to being abnormal.

The smell of strawberry bubble gum and cheap wine hit his nose. It belonged to the figure, a girl, sprawled on the ground, moaning. He could tell it wasn't all from pain, though, aware of the odor of arousal . But what could have that kind of effect on a person? The situation was getting more weird as time passed.

After a few more steps he saw her. She was thankfully moving, though her breathing sounded labored. It wasn't long before he had dialed Vale's emergency line and informed them of the situation. He didn't, however, stick around to await the paramedics and police. He didn't want the attention it would garner and so dove into the now emerging crowd. With the rain receding and the sun's rays poking through the cloud, people had decided to start leaving their various homes for reasons known only to them. Even with the sun out, the air was still misty and chilly so they all had protectively coverings on.

Jaune moved farther away from the alley, or crime scene as the police would likely refer it as. Beacon wasn't only the reason why he had come to Vale a week earlier, no, he had found a place – right here in Vale – that had some information that pertains to his unique situation. It was hard to believe but it didn't hurt to check it out. Maybe whatever he found would help him find somewhere he belonged. Somewhere in which he was considered normal.

-O-

Jaune looked down the long dark aisle of books. His eyes searched every inch of the shop, flashing from the rough wooden floor to the ornate plaster ceiling. At the end of each tall aisle of books a bright dust-powered lit through the maze of crammed shelves. There was a constant swirling of dust, blown through the floorboards by the breeze of the morning drizzle.

He crept along the side of the bookshelves, running his hands through spines of thick books. He skimped through names, in various styles and writings, searching for any book that had to do with werewolves. This method of manual checking was rather tiresome but something he knew he had to do. The reward, if he found a book of course, will be worth it.

After a long while of searching, he found a book, _the curse of the wolf_, on a bottom shelf of a long bookcase next to a dusty old volume with a crusty cover etched in green mold. The faded name had been printed in gold.

Pocketing the book, for it was small enough to fit, he made his way towards the counter. Though not before stopping at a crumpled pile of books. And laying atop of the pile was a large, thick book. Woven in fine silver, the name read,_ Creatures of Myths and Legends._ He didn't know when he had taken the book, but he had, and walked out of the shop with both books after paying for it.

**Shameless Advertisement: Check out my new fanfic, I Don't Want To Be A Monster. An original idea about a mentally distorted Jaune with the powers of a supernatural beast. The name of the beast wouldn't be made known until a sufficient time has passed. Reqd the story.**


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